Should Be
by foxredwinter
Summary: What one should, would, could, wants, and needs are often entirely different things. Then there’s a choice. Hermione’s time has come to face these, at 2 am.
1. Should

_Disclaimer: As usual, all that is of the Potter universe belongs to JKR. I merely have this plot to offer and some out of canon ideas._

_AN: Much as I hate these things, I must say this story had the first three paragraphs written with a particular story to follow. However, paragraph five came on its own and dictated a new idea be explored. Stories are like small children, they require your undivided attention and if left to their own devices can wreak utter havoc. Uncharacteristically, I'm letting this story run rampant on its own. So forgive me. This pairing intrigues me and so we shall see where they go…

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_**What She Should**_

She should be sleeping. She knew she should be sleeping. She knew she needed to be in the office early in the morning. After glancing at the clock she realized she was supposed to be sitting at her desk in less than seven hours. Being awake at two in the morning when you were expected to be at your desk no later than nine was not her ideal evening. Especially when the previous three days had been twelve or fourteen hours of work with lunch and dinner eaten at her desk. She should be sleeping.

You see, despite being a mere twenty-five years old, Hermione Granger was quite the power house at the ministry. Of course being a war hero, best friend of the Boy-Who-Won, and best friend of the Minister's son does help with things. Even without all these little titles, she would likely be in the same seat as she really was the brightest witch of her age and likely a few ages yet to come. After all, she had been part of the trio whom defeated Voldemort and managed to pull off a few tricks even the best wizards were calling miracles as they seemed to go beyond magic.

Of course, if she was really bright she would be sleeping. She should be sleeping. She knows this, of course. For it is generally acknowledged that the harder you try to fall asleep the more awake you will become. Hermione watched the hands of her clock tick off seven more minutes.

"Will you just stop talking!" she exclaimed to herself. Realizing that sleep was futile, she slipped out of bed and padded down the stairs of her flat to the kitchen. There she made a cup of tea and decided to read. Yes, shocking, Hermione Granger can not sleep so she decides to read. As books are strewn throughout the entire expanse of her rather large flat, she does not have to go far to find a novel to entertain her. She picks up one of the many lying around with a ribbon in the midst of it.

She reads exactly two and a half sentences before she hears a pop, some obscene language, and some dreadful pounding on her door. She grabs her wand, lights the hall and goes to the door.

"Who the bloody hell is there?" she hollers in a much lower voice than she normally uses.

"Cut the act, Hermione, it's just me," a deep male voice came through the thick entryway door.

"Of for the love of all that is holy, this is not helpful," Hermione muttered as she opened the door. "You showing up on my door step at half-past two in the morning is hardly a comfort, Sirius," she scolded.

"You should watch yourself there Hermione, for a moment you sounded just like McGonagall," he said as he walked past her, kissed her on the forehead, and threw his jacket on the small reception table. He kept walking towards the lighted kitchen.

"I really had intended to sleep tonight. First I get a bout of insomnia and then that hooligan arrives for some obliquitous purpose I'm sure," she continued muttering as she shut the door and followed the rogue down the hall.

"Only you manage to use such big words at this hour of the day. You do realize that ninety percent of the population does not even know what that word means and even fewer can spell it correctly at any time of day," Sirius said as he poured himself a cup of the herbal tea Hermione had on the table.

She merely sighed in response, picked up her book and mug and went into the library. Whether her uninvited guest chose to follow was up to his own discretion. He would anyways, so why should she worry if she was a good hostess or not.

Just as Hermione settled herself on her favorite chair and started up the hearth, Sirius entered with his cup of tea and sat down in the chair opposite of her.

"Fancy finding you awake at this hour," he began.

"Yes, quite," she replied not looking up from her book.

"I thought I'd be waking you up when I showed up here," he doggedly continued.

"If your rather loud apparition, which might I remind you I live in a Muggle neighborhood so that was asinine, did not make me wake, then that foul bout of language surely would have," she continued, again remaining focused on her book.

"Now I know that you have read that book before so will you just put it down and have a normal conversation with me?"

"How do you know I've read this book before?" she asked.

"First, the pages are well worn. Second the page you're on has a tea stain. Third you just admitted it," he smugly replied. He could be quite annoying when he wanted to be and right now he was annoyingly superior. At a quarter to three in the morning this was not something he should be doing to our poor leading lady.

"Sirius Black you show up at my door step with a vocabulary of a particularly maladjusted sailor and have the audacity to criticize and annoy me?"

"Hermione Granger, you should know I have the audacity to do just about anything," he says with a rakish undertone, but an innocent expression as he takes a sip of tea.

"Of that I am well aware. However, what I would like to know, old man, is what you are doing here at this hour?" If she was going to have to have a conversation with him she might as well make it interesting.

"Well, I had a particularly nasty night of it and thought a bit of moral support would be helpful. Harry is off playing new father and I highly doubt Ginny would let me show up at their door at this hour. She would hex me from here to eternity if I woke that kid of theirs up. Ron's off on a tournament in Europe. I'm not about to turn to McGonagall at a time like this. That left, I'm sorry to say, you, as my confidant of choice."

"Nice to see I rank so high on your scale," she said from the corner of her mouth as she sipped some tea.

"I'll have you know you were my first choice. You just also happened to be my only choice," he said with a note of seriousness.

Suddenly Hermione realized several key issues all at once. The fact that it was early morning and thereby a new date began the train of revelations. This led to quickly assessing the significance of that date in its significance to the man in front of her. This in turn led to an understanding of what exactly the nasty night entailed.

"Oh, Sirius, I had forgotten the date. Well, more accurately, I had forgotten it was no longer yesterday. Oh, you know what I mean," she blustered out in a rush.

"I know," he said with a small smile. "I thought I could make it through the day by myself finally this year. I made it a whole two and a half hours."

Both found themselves lost in the glow of the fire. Hermione thought over the past years and this day's significance. For the man sitting across from her it was a day that seemed to be plagued with tragedy and chaos. On this day he lost his two best friends. On this day several years later his one remaining friend from school died from complications of an ancient hex thrown at him during the Last Battle. He had only a few hours to reunite with his friend in the ward at St. Mungo's for it was on this day that he had emerged from beyond the veil one year after the Last Battle. He had missed that, but the lasting effect of Remus' injuries took him on the anniversary of Lily and James' death. Yes, this was a day that Sirius Black dreaded and feared each year.

"Were you able to sleep at all before you came over here?" she asked softly, coming out of her reverie.

"No, I tried to go to sleep early in hopes that I would be able to at least sleep until dawn. That idea was quickly proven a delusion," he ended with a snort.

"As insomnia seems to have taken hold on me tonight, you came to the right girl," she said as she took stock of Sirius. She could see the deep circles under his eyes. It seemed this wasn't the only sleepless night for him recently. Under the weariness and sorrow the handsome Marauder was still present. When he had returned from the veil he was younger than when he had gone in thus causing great debate as to his age. General consensus was he emerged at an age somewhere around the age of 25, likely a bit older. Now that placed him a few years past thirty to the best of anyone's estimation. While she had managed to find a way to bring him out of the veil with some contributions from Harry, she did not know the details of the veil or its effects.

She thought of the two lives this man had ripped away. His first life was lost on the day the Potters were murdered. The second life ended the day he fell into the veil. Now, this man was trying to cut a third life out the unusual fabric of life he had been presented with on the day Remus died and his new life began.

During this time, Sirius was just as pensive. Hermione presumed his thoughts dwelled exclusively on the past. However, they rampaged over the years and into the present and back again. Yes, he thought of finding James and Lily that night. He remembered the sound of his motorbike riding into the sky with Hagrid and Harry. He remembered the elation of being free of the veil only to despair as he saw the last of the true Marauders, his brothers in all but blood, die before him in that hospital ward. He glanced up from his thoughts to catch Hermione gazing into the fire. With the light dancing on her face and her long hair she was quite the object to contemplate. As the flames flickered she would alternately appear like an innocent girl, curled up on the chair with oversized pajama pants and an old shirt that likely had belonged to Harry or Ron as it was clearly at least four sizes too big for her. Then the flames danced red and he saw the woman who had fought in a war and watched men and women, her friends, and even her family die in front of her.

"It does seem so," he finally replied.

"How about we just plan on you being my shadow for the rest of today? I will just owl in sick today. If I send in the note now on Orion, it will seem like I really came down with the flu. Hang on," she said. She got up and went to the desk where some parchment and quills were waiting. She wrote a quick note and whistled for Orion her owl. Though it was a small female owl, it only wanted to be named Orion. Given how sturdy the little thing was and always managed to find the largest mice being named after the famed hunter was apt. Orion came to the window and took the note. "Now don't let on that I'm skiving off work today, dear," she said to the owl as it begged to be petted.

As the owl flew off, she shut the window and returned to her seat. "Now, what shall we do as apparently sleep is eluding us both this night? And no, whatever rubbish first entered your mind is not going to happen," she said in a matter of fact tone.

"How do you know my thoughts were anything but of lofty ideals and dreams?" he asked.

"First, you have a mind that is well suited to your colorful and less than delightful vocabulary. Second, you are Sirius Black. Third, you just admitted it," she responded.

"Touché," he replied.

"Yes, you should really know better by now. How about I read to you and no, not from this book. I've got another one around here my mum used to read to me when I had nightmares as a child," she concluded her statement as she rummaged in a stack of books sitting next to the chair. Sirius had not been the only one with several sleepless nights. "Ah! Here it is!"

"That's not some sappy romance novel or such is it?" he asked wrinkling his nose.

"No, do you know what a fairy tale is?" she asked. "And again, don't go with your first response."

Sirius rolled his eyes and said, "No, that was not part of the Hogwarts curriculum back in my day."

"Well, they are stories often read to Muggle children. Some like to draw lessons from them and some of them in their original forms are quite frightening. However, this volume is full of the lighter ones and quite possibly my favorite book. Don't tell Harry and Ron it isn't _Hogwarts, A History_. Letting them think me as utterly hopeless has its advantages," she said.

Before he could reply she picked up her wand and made a few adjustments to the room. "I don't see the need to relocate so this should make things more comfortable." She had turned Sirius' chair into a lounge with several plush cushions and a quilt. She also acquired a quilt. The lights were extinguished except for the candle next to her allowing her to read the text without straining her eyes.

"Now just relax. Once upon a time in a kingdom far, far away there lived a young girl. Now this little girl had hair as dark as coal, lips as red as roses, and skin as white as snow…"

Her voice drifted over Sirius and he slowly released the tension as he became immersed in this simple tale. Hermione's voice continued mesmerizing him with these children's tales.


	2. Would

_Disclaimer: As usual, all that is of the Potter universe belongs to JKR. I merely have this plot to offer and some out of canon ideas.

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**What Would You**

Somewhere around the third or fourth story, Sirius managed to drift off to sleep. Hermione continued reading aloud for a quarter hour longer just to make sure he really was soundly sleeping. As she was finally tired herself, she let herself drift off just as the old grandfather clock noted it was a bit past four.

It was only half past six when she woke up. Glancing over she was surprised to find Sirius still asleep. She noted the sky was just starting to lighten out the eastern window. Pulling the blanket about her shoulders, she got up to go to the window.

As she was a morning person, she would often find herself awake before dawn. After all she had seen and so much time spent in figurative and literal darkness, she found great peace in the slow rising of the sun. The pale colors, whether muted by clouds or shooting through the clear purple, would hint at an inherent goodness and beauty that all the evil men or wizards tried to create could never extinguish.

The first hints of orange crept above the horizon when she heard the man across the room stir. Mesmerized in her daily ritual, she did not move even though she felt his presence behind her.

Uncharacteristically, Sirius was silent. He merely stood a pace behind and to Hermione's left equally enchanted by the clear autumn daybreak. For some time they watched in silence simply reveling in the pungent colors that saturated the sky. As the oranges and yellows faded to blue, Hermione finally let out a contended sigh.

"There we are," she murmured.

"It seems so," Sirius replied still in a bit of a peaceful trance.

Hermione threw a sideways glance at the man over her shoulder. As best as she could tell, he was still half asleep and caught up in the fresh daylight. She wondered what they would do for the day. Neither had slept much at all and thus would not have a great font of energy to draw from, so adventures or, as Sirius would naturally choose, pranks were out of the question.

Any reflective thoughts of either of the two at the window were disrupted by the very real rumbling of Hermione's stomach.

"Well, it seems someone is hungry," Sirius commented.

"I must confess I had not had any meal last night. I was home so late from work and I just did not have the energy to eat," Hermione sheepishly confessed.

Quirking a smile at her, Sirius shook his head as he thought, "This girl needed a keeper. She would care for all around her, expending every drop of talent, intelligence, and energy in her. However, when it came to taking care of herself, she would not be troubled."

Out loud he said, "Luckily for you Miss Granger, you are in the presence of a truly gifted chef."

Here Hermione laughed. "I highly doubt that. I haven't seen you do so much as make your own pot of tea."

"Just because I don't normally make the effort does not mean the skill is not present," her insulted companion replied.

"Fine, prove it,"

"I would if you simply show me a few things in your fine kitchen," Sirius said as he steered Hermione down the hall. This is not a figure of speech as the much taller gentleman had his hands on Hermione's shoulders and pushed her forward as the feigned resistance.

"You do realize that you will simply make a phenomenal mess, clean none of it, and leave me to take care of the catastrophe that inevitable results from your little projects," she lectured en route.

"Do you ever stop acting like McGonagall? Really, it is terribly unnerving and you are far too young. That woman was ancient when I was in class."

"Sirius, when were you in class? I would bet that even when you were physically present in Transfiguration your mind was so slightly focused on the day's lesson that Professor McGonagall could have turned the room into a menagerie and back without you knowing it."

"Hermione, I would have you know that if that situation ever occurred I would have noticed. Likely, I would have caused it," Sirius smirked.

"You are utterly incorrigible."

"If you insist. Now I need the following items. Fetch them as I list," Sirius ordered.

"Aren't you the one to play fetch?" Hermione said hands on her hips in the midst of her kitchen.

"Only with the right inducement, love," Sirius tossed back with his characteristic roguish grin. "Back to the food."

"With men it is always one of two things…" Hermione tisked as she started to pull things out of the cupboards.

"Wait on the dishes; you don't know what we're eating. I need eggs, spinach, onion, cheese, some bacon to start."

Deciding it was too early to really argue with Sirius, Hermione followed his commands and retrieved the items from their respective locations. Sirius took them and began to make what was obviously going to be omelets. With his back to Hermione he was chopping and whisking the ingredients in a bowl on the counter.

"Coffee or tea?" Hermione asked as she was getting out her bean grinder and French press.

"Coffee," Sirius replied without turning around to see Hermione.

"Convenient," Hermione muttered as she rooted around for the fresh bag of coffee beans.

"Love, you are a witch, you could just 'Accio' those things," Sirius matter-of-factly stated seeing the witch hunched over the lower cupboard.

Pulling herself upright with the coffee beans in her left hand her right was free to wave her wand in Sirius' face. "If I choose to use my wand this morning it will be to do far more serious work, most particularly if you continue along your highly perturbing path right now."

Sirius merely raised an eyebrow and returned to his work. These sorts of threats were to be expected from Hermione. For the next few minutes a gentle silence rested in the kitchen lit with the soft morning light. Unbeknownst to her, Hermione started humming an old tune. Sirius could not place it, likely Hermione would not have been able to either. However, Sirius found it quite charming and very soothing. Despite the relaxed atmosphere, the day's ghosts still haunted him. Hermione continued humming as she prepared a small fruit salad to go with the concoction Sirius was preparing. She then went to set the small table as Sirius turned the omelets out of the pan onto their plates.

"I do expect you to state that you were completely wrong about me," Sirius said with an air of satisfaction.

"There still is the mess you made to be cleaned up," Hermione replied as she took a piece of fruit.

"Will you ever approve of me woman?" he rejoined in mock frustration while murmuring a quick succession of spells to clean the kitchen.

"Fine, you made a perfectly acceptable omelet, did not destroy my kitchen, and managed to clean up after yourself. It is so nice to see that you are housebroken," she rejoined with a smug look worthy of someone quite used to being right. "Hey, that was not very gentlemanly," she said after Sirius swatted her arm.

"First you compare me to a dog and then you accuse me of not being gentlemanly. You need to sort out your priorities, dear," Sirius said before taking a large mouthful of omelet.

"Well, Snuffles, once you prove that you are a gentleman and not a dog, we'll look to my priorities," she regally replied taking a dainty bite.

Realizing he was not going to win this despite his valiant attempts, Sirius decided to concentrate on the food. The two ate in companionable silence.

Hermione began contemplating how they would spend the remainder of the day. As it was only seven or so in the morning, that is no small amount of time to fill.

Before she could begin planning all the details, she was interrupted by Sirius, "What would you do if you could do anything in the world?"

"Do you know how many times I was asked that question following the defeat of Voldemort?" she responded. "It was the single most common question I was asked. Of course _Witch Weekly _choose to focus on how I tamed my hair and with whom I was in love."

"Must admit I have little interest in your hair regime and fascinating though I am sure your love life is, I would prefer to return to my original question."

"The answer today is simply the same as it was all those years ago. I would simply like to live my life. For so long we were merely surviving, I would like to truly live each day of my life."

Sirius sipped his second or third cup of coffee. Hermione mentally commentated that of all the creatures on this earth that should not be caffeinated, Sirius must top that list. She suddenly got a mental picture of a capricious, hyperactive, scheming teenager wreaking havoc upon Hogwarts. The thought made a slight smile turn the corners of her mouth as she too sipped her coffee.

Sirius noted the smile and noted he would like to investigate the cause of that smile at some point.

"What would you do?" Hermione asked.


	3. Could

_Disclaimer: As usual, all that is of the Potter universe belongs to JKR. I merely have this plot to offer and some out of canon ideas.

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_**What He Could**_

"It is not so much what I would do but what I could do."

"How so?" questioned Hermione. Sirius had an odd look, equal parts wistfulness and shadows of his painful past.

"For all those years I was in the darkest, most horrific place imaginable. I was consumed by hate, thoughts of revenge, and so little goodness. Then I had a few brief years of life as an outlaw. All this was topped by years behind the veil. I lost half my life to darkness. I guess I was a dark ghost living among ghosts of what was lost to me." He stopped here to stare into his cup. Hermione put her small hand over his in a brief moment of compassion. He looked up with a small smile.

"In Azkaban I merely lived on memories of those I lost. James and Lily were my world, along with Remus. When Harry was born and I was made his godfather I felt a part of a family for the first time in my life. Then it was taken away from me by someone I thought I could trust. For all those years in prison I thought I what I could do if ever that traitor crossed my path. I thought of what I could do to be a true godfather to Harry. I thought of what revenge I could wreak on the world that turned on me." This time Hermione replied by refilling his cup with some more hot coffee and adding just the right amount of cream.

"I couldn't even tell you what I thought behind the veil. I'm not even sure if I remember. All I know is that the day I saw the light again I was overwhelmed with life again. As I said goodbye to Remus, I realized I had two choices. I could cling to the past and live in a dark place haunted by memories and pain. Or I could choose the much more uncertain future. It helped when Remus asked me to live the life that he couldn't." Here he took a sip of coffee and finally realized what Hermione had done. "Thanks, it was getting a bit cool."

"So I decided I could do anything I wanted. I had a clear name, the Black family fortune, and apparently some of those lost years. Sometimes Fortune does favor the reckless. Besides living life as the devastatingly handsome Director of Reconstruction and Restitution, I still could do just about anything I please."

Hermione sat throughout this lengthy monologue a bit in awe, again. Intellectually she knew that Sirius had ample reason to be bitter, vengeful, and jaded. However, the charismatic, warm, and jovial man often made her forget this. His recitation of his thoughts brought a huge surge of empathy.

"I guess we are in the same place then," she mused. "We both are without family, working at jobs we surprisingly love within the Ministry, and left to our own devices to entertain ourselves for the rest of our lives."

"Something tells me that with the next generation of Potters and Weasleys quickly filling several homes that there will be plenty of entertainment," he commented with a wry grin.

"That is quite true. So, old man, when are you going to settle down and take one of _Witch Weekly's_ most eligible bad boys off the market?" Hermione realized that Sirius was done with his reflective moment. He would phase in and out of needing to talk about the past today. Now it was back to lighter matters.

"The inspiration has not struck, dear girl. I'm in no grand rush. When will we see the brightest witch of the next generation might I ask? For surely any child of yours will be reading at six months and casting spells at 'Uncle Ron' to make him watch his language by age two," he quickly volleyed back.

"'Not till God make men of some other metal than earth!'" she cried.

Sirius let out quite the guffaw at that. "So should we seek to blame Ron, Victor, or one of your other admirers for that belief?"

"Well, part goes to Shakespeare and the fantastic character of Beatrice. After all, _Much Ado about Nothing_ is one of my favorite works. Part goes to the fact I have yet to meet someone who can really hold their own against me. Ron could battle it out, but we were fighting on two different levels. And when it came to it, he would always end up doing what I said. He might have grumbled, but he would do it none the less."

"Aren't you quite the task master?" he replied before raising his cup. Before he could take a drink of coffee, he grew concerned. "Are you alright there, love? You are looking a bit pale." Sirius asked suddenly concerned.

"If I tell you yes, will you believe me?" she halfheartedly asked.

"No, what is wrong?"

"It's a migraine. That curse from the final battle left its mark. All the other after effects are gone, but unfortunately these nasty headaches come every once and a while. I guess that the past week was so long and busy it took its toll. I just need to take some of my Muggle medicine. It works better than anything the Healers at St. Mungo's have tried."

"Where's the medicine, Hermione?" Sirius asked getting up from his chair. He had seen her with these before and knew how awfully they affected her.

"Don't worry, I'll get it," she tried to stand up. However, the migraine was taking its toll and she started to wobble a bit.

"Nice try Miss Granger," Sirius said as he scooped her up in his arms like an infant. With the migraine quickly taking over her, she was about as helpless as one. "Where's your medicine?"

"In the drawer in the kitchen next to the stove," she said as Sirius laid her down on the chair in the library. He pulled the blanket over her, closed the drapes, and silently left the room. In a moment he returned with a bottle and a glass of juice.

"Here you go, love, take one of these," he softly said. Hermione followed directions, took her pill with a swallow of juice. He took her glass from her and put it down on the desk. He then rearranged her on the settee so that he could sit behind her. He cast some quick spells making a cold compress for her forehead and a warming charm to loosen the tense muscles in her back.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the small part that was not affected by the pain, Hermione realized she was the one who was supposed to be caring for Sirius. This was his day of pain and suffering. Those few painless cells quickly realized there was not much that she could do, at least until the medicine began to work.

Simultaneously, Sirius was thinking how he liked being able to take care of someone. This was not his normal role. Most people did not turn to Sirius Black for care or comfort. He was more likely to be consulted for pranks or now business related to the clean up from the war. Not that he really knew what to do; his childhood and family were not quite stellar examples of love and affection. Perhaps that is why he was surprisingly affectionate toward Harry. That boy had the same experience of family. Then there was Hermione.

Hermione let herself relax, not that the medication gave her too many options. She slowly let her shoulders fall limply into Sirius' chest. Her eyes remained closed as he gently, yet firmly began working the tension out of her neck and shoulders. Ever careful to maintain enough gentleness so as not to disturb Hermione, Sirius worked the healing magic of a massage. Given the severity of the sudden headache and the potency of the medication it was not surprising that Hermione quickly fell asleep.

Once he was certain the young witch was soundly sleeping off her migraine, Sirius picked his wand up and performed a few spells. A blanket from the other chair flew over to cover them. A movie began to play in the Muggle DVD player and the television turned on at such a low volume that anyone without the excellent hearing Sirius acquired all those years on the run would not have heard. What is he watching you might ask, well, nothing less than an animated version of one of those fairy tales.

He smirked to himself. Sirius wasn't sure who would be quicker to deny the situation. Sirius that he was watching a children's film about a beautiful girl and an ugly beast or Hermione that she owned such a film and watched it so frequently that it was the one sitting in the player.

Almost an hour into the film, Hermione began to stir from her slumber. Surprised to hear singing she was a bit discombobulated. What was even more confusing in her fuzzy state were the vibrations coming from her pillow. As she began to emerge slowing from her migraine and medicated state she realized first that her pillow was Sirius and, secondly, the vibrations were the rumblings caused by Sirius humming along to the music.

'What would the readers of _Witch Weekly _give to hear the illusive and dashing Sirius Black singing along to a children's song from an animated film?'

Her suppressed laughter caused enough movement for Sirius to realize that she had woken up from her nap. Her eyes were yet shut, but her mouth had curled into that slight smile which he believed was one of Hermione's more endearing mannerisms.

"It seems that sleeping beauty is feeling a mite bit better," he commented.

"Wrong fairy tale. And I cannot wait to tell Harry that you watched _Beauty and the Beast_!"

"Now, love, that is hardly fair. What was I supposed to do? Wake you up so I could put a different disc in the player?" Sirius logically said. He did love to play with the Muggle technology.

"You are hardly one to play at false modesty. You are quite talented enough to use a few well placed spells to switch the films in the player. You put far more effort into even your simplest pranks."

Hermione was definitely coming out of her migraine, she was sparing with Sirius.

"Shush witch, I am watching a film," he said pretending to ignore her.

"Honestly, you are such an infant," she huffed in mock exasperation as she diverted her attention to the television.

They watched the remaining end of the film. Neither noticed how Sirius had his arm wrapped protectively around Hermione. Neither noticed how Hermione unconsciously kept her head in the crook of Sirius' neck. For the brightest witch of her age and one with such keen senses due to his Animagus form, these two were exceptionally dull witted this morning. Given his emotional state and her now physical state, the slightly obvious could escape them. One must not blame them.


	4. Want

_Disclaimer: As usual, all that is of the Potter universe belongs to JKR. I merely have this plot to offer and some out of canon ideas.

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**What She Wants**

"I don't suppose you want to eat lunch yet?" Sirius asked sometime nearing noon.

"Actually, now that the migraine broke, I am famished again. This time it is my turn to astound you with my culinary skills, Mr. Black," Hermione commanded.

Not willing to allow her to out do him, he swept her up in his arms again and threw her over his shoulder. "Very well, your highness, to your throne room you go."

He then unceremoniously plopped her on the countertop where she proceeded to glare at him.

"After all these years you know that glare has no effect on me," he scolded.

She merely quirked her eyebrow and then her expression softened. Her eyes grew large and soft, the edges of her mouth fell, and a nearly imperceptible quiver began in the region of her lower lip.

"You have no shame do you?" Sirius asked.

"Of course not," Hermione replied hopping off the counter and grabbing the old white apron from its hook. Before she could reach around to tie it, Sirius took the strings from her and made a neat bow at the back of her waist.

"Thank you very much kind sir, now go sit."

"Yes ma'am," Sirius replied as he took a seat at the table.

Hermione proceeded to spend the next fifteen minutes humming to herself as she methodically moved around the kitchen. Where Sirius seemed to move in the kitchen as is every action was a casual response to a momentary impulse, Hermione buzzed as if she were following a detailed choreography. Indeed, to the man watching her, she seemed to move with a grace he had not truly noticed before.

As she began to set the dishes and food on the table, Hermione noticed that Sirius was silent and watching her every move. A silent Sirius is usually something to be wary around as it usually meant there were some plots running in his mind. However, given the day, she thought he might again be immersed in memories.

"It's not much, but it's what I felt like," she explained as they surveyed the salad, cold cuts, and rolls she had placed before them. She went to get some pumpkin juice to drink and then took her seat.

"Hermione, I am a male. If it is food, I'll eat it," he simply stated.

"That's one way to compliment the cook," she rolled her eyes. "However, I do have better plans for dinner."

"As I have an idea for a fantastic dessert then, that is ideal," Sirius commented while chewing some salad.

Hermione shook her head as she chewed her salad with a closed mouth. 'Honestly, what is it in the Y chromosome that keeps men from having basic manners?' she thought to herself.

For a few minutes silence fell on them. Both became lost in their thoughts. Hermione continued along her theoretical genetic inquiry. Sirius' mind was on quite a different track. As his next comment gave evidence.

"Hermione, do you have everything you want out of life?" he asked.

Startled by his question, she pulled herself out of her scientific ponderings. "Where did that come from?"

"Well, you talked about that you just want to live your life, but are you happy with your life?" he clarified.

Realizing he was genuinely curious, she paused to consider her answer. "My job at the ministry is rewarding and enjoyable. I love my friends and my various pseudo-nieces and nephews. I have fun when I am off work with friends. I am content to spend an evening at home with a good book. I believe I am happy," she concluded.

"Is there nothing else you want in life?" he persisted.

"Oh, Sirius, I don't know. I want to travel more still," she drifted off. She thought perhaps this would satisfy the suddenly inquisitive man across from her.

"So all that you want beyond what you have is to travel?" he asked, not believing she was fully truthful with herself or with him. He let the silence back into the room. Hermione was always one to thoroughly think things through, so he gave her the time he knew she needed.

"No, I want more than that. I do want what I see between Harry and Ginny. I think I would want that to grow into what I see between Molly and Arthur. Somewhere down the line I think I want to have a bunch of kids running around. A part of me wants that just like a part of me wants to be Minister some day."

'Finally, she got it all out,' Sirius thought. He had long thought that the witch who seemed married to her job and content with playing the favorite aunt wanted more than that for her life.

"It is low to kick a girl when she is already down," she commented finally.

Hermione continued eating without making eye contact with Sirius. Suddenly her salad became utterly fascinating. For every bite she took, she pushed the leaves around several times. She was lost in thoughts about what she wanted from life. After the tumultuous years spent at Hogwarts, this quiet life was what she always wanted. It was why a relationship with Victor or Ron never would have worked. The life of Quidditch stars is not what she wanted to be a part of and those two loved Quidditch first and foremost. The residual fame resulting from the war and all the misadventures while in school were more than she ever wanted.

For her entire childhood everyone from her family to her professors told her of the great things she could accomplish. Her parents saw her intelligence and pushed her to study hard so she could be a great doctor or barrister or professor. Once at school, her professors saw her genius and all suggested she pursue their favorite field. She acknowledged all these hopes, but carved a role out for herself in the ministry. She did not use her celebrity to push her way to a top position. Continuing the stubborn streak, which Ron still felt necessary to point out to her, she was determined to work her way to the top. A part of her wanted to be Minister of Magic, to fix all the problems of the world.

However, as she watched Harry and Ginny over the last couple of years, she started to have some unusual mental rumblings. All her aspirations to do something magnificent, to continue to save the world, to be the heroine, seemed not quite sufficient. She was loathe to admit it and until Sirius had demanded an answer, she had not voiced it even silently to herself. Now, after having to articulate it to another, it drove home that there was more that she wanted out of life. For the first time since the end of the war, she had to admit there was something that she wanted to have, to do, and could not in the least fathom how to go about achieving it. And that, that lack of knowledge or power to grasp what she wanted scared her like nothing had since that final battle.

Hermione would have been significantly more concerned as she went through this vastly uncomfortable thought process that she was been scrutinized by Sirius. Even more discomforting would be the knowledge that each thought was as easy to read as a first year spell. Sirius knew that during the war she had a face of stone. It was easier to get an emotional response from the walls of Hogwarts than Hermione Granger. However, over the years and under the influence of all her unofficial nieces and nephews, Hermione had softened.

Sirius was deep in his meditations on the changes Hermione had gone through since he had first met her all those years ago when she was just thirteen. Hermione suddenly jumped out of her revere and became incalculably ill at ease. Luckily she realized it was now after noon and she had yet to shower. In fact, she was not sure whether she had showered the day before. Her life was really too hectic.

"Umm, yeah…I'm going to go hop in the shower. Do you mind cleaning up a bit? I think you can occupy yourself for a bit. Do whatever you want, just don't permanently damage anything, please," she said.

"Whether you want to believe it or not I can manage not to wreak havoc for a whole half an hour, Miss Granger," Sirius retorted.

"Not from what McGonagall told me," she sing-songed her way out of the room.

"Think what she wants, I'm not done with her yet," he mused as he put away the dishes with one flick of his wand and wiped the table with the other.

Finishing putting the kitchen to rights, he wandered down the hall. He knew he would only have a few minutes until Hermione returned. Even when getting ready for formal events she never took more than half an hour to prepare. Figuring the library was the most entertaining room, after all, that is where Hermione practically lived, he headed back down the hallway. He chuckled as he thought that she had three levels to her flat, she spent most of her waking hours in one room.

He glanced at the walls, lined with book shelves of course, looking at the book titles. Realizing he was not going to read he instead walked over to the television and chairs. Taking a seat he flicked on the set and flipped through the various channels. Muggle television fascinated him, though he would not admit it to many.

Meanwhile, Hermione had made it to the top of her flat where her room and bathroom were. Peeling off the pajamas finally and stepping under the steaming hot water helped to clear her mind. It took quite a bit to unnerve Hermione Granger and Sirius had managed to do so with just one question.

"That man is utterly infuriating!" she huffed as she shampooed her hair. "Who does he think he is? I am perfectly willing to comfort a friend in a difficult spot. Honestly, I've even gone with him to all those Quidditch games when Ginny kept Harry at home." Finishing her tirade as she began rinsing the shampoo out she was silent until the conditioner went on, then she started her rant again.

"I know what I want in life. I know I want to continue to make my life count for something. I want to accomplish something grand," again she stopped when it came time to rinse.

She managed to make it through the rest of her shower without talking to herself any more. However as she dried herself with her favorite oversized towel and charmed her hair dry her mind picked up its tirade. Not quite articulating its dissatisfaction with the situation, it degenerated into more a disgruntled mumbling.

As Hermione's mind began to berate him, Sirius was absentmindedly continuing his perusing of Muggle television. His mind was contemplating the woman whose life he had invaded. In his life he had known only a handful of people who would have put their lives on hold for a slightly insane man showing up on the doorstep at two in the morning. In fact, he began to list them, "James, Remus, Lily, Harry…" There the list ended. Considering that the only other person on that list who was alive was Harry, and now he was occupied with his own new family, Sirius realized Hermione was an incredibly unique person in his life.

"Hmmm…" he contemplated. Actually, Sirius realized that Hermione had entered his thoughts more than usual lately. Of course some of that was aided by the fact that Harry was so busy with the baby. He had convinced Hermione to accompany him to all the major Quidditch matches of the past season. They had of course gone to see every one that Ron had played. Given some of those were tournaments in Ireland and Romania, they had even had a few times where they had actually spent several consecutive days in each other's company.

Sirius chuckled, "Even Lily began to lose patience with me after a long weekend with James present as a buffer. How does Hermione do it?"

Hermione was pulling out an old pair of jeans, shirt and a cardigan thinking much the same thoughts as Sirius. "Honestly, how do I ever put up with him?" As she pulled her hair back in a loose braid she headed back downstairs.

"Why would he even care what I want out of life, anyway?" she questioned.


	5. Want?

_Disclaimer: As usual, all that is of the Potter universe belongs to JKR. I merely have this plot to offer and some out of canon ideas.

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_**What He Wants**_

As he heard her footsteps on the stairs, a terrible thought struck Sirius. "What if she asks me what I want?" This stopped him in his proverbial tracks. What did he want? He had his freedom. He had enough money that should all the residual effects of the wars be taken care of and he no longer had a position in the ministry he need not worry. When he wanted box seats for a Quidditch match, between the money, the reputation, and the people he knew, Sirius got the best seats in the stadium. When he wanted something, nothing stood in his way. Thus, he had all he wanted. Right?

"Bugger," he muttered. "That is right isn't it?"

"What's right?" Hermione asked as she entered the room.

"Oh, nothing, just talking to myself," he attempted to cover face.

"Uh huh," Hermione tilted her head, hands on hips, and looked incredulously at Sirius. Sirius responded with an equally silent glare.

"Oh, honestly!" Hermione realized her efforts to quell Sirius were futile. "I feel like baking. You can stay here and be smug or you can come in the kitchen." Turning on her heel, she left the library.

Dutifully Sirius followed her; after all, entertaining himself was far too much effort. Hermione already had the apron on when he entered the kitchen. She was humming to herself again. Sirius could not identify it so he assumed it was a Muggle tune. Hermione pulled various items from the cupboards. Sirius was able to identify sugar, flour, some spices, a tin of something, and another tin.

"Sirius, please get me an apple, eggs, and, no, that's it," Hermione instructed as she pulled out bowls and utensils.

"What are you making?" he asked.

"We are making pumpkin muffins," she replied.

"Those ones with the strudel on top?"

"Yes," she said smiling with her back to him. She knew they were his favorite.

"They're my favorite," he said with a hint of an overexcited boy about him.

"I know."

Hermione kept putting dry ingredients into a bowl.

"You make the strudel topping. Add that butter to this bowl and use this fork to make it crumbly," she instructed Sirius as she sat him down at the table. She knew better than to let the man stand around idle.

"Yes ma'am," he saluted and got to work on the butter and sugar mixture.

Hermione began humming again as she mixed together the wet ingredients. She knew that she could put the recipe together in no time with magic, but there was something better about baking the Muggle way. She smiled as she thought how her great-grandmother would approve. Her mum was never one to cook, nor her grandmother. Her mother always fed the family, but it was a chore and not a pleasure. Her grandmother never liked to create the mess. Hermione relished cooking. It was a mixture of science and art. Too much yeast or too little sugar and the work was ruined, but there was an art to it too. Mainly she found it terribly relaxing. Plus with so many kids popping by or being left for babysitting, she found having a few biscuits or muffins helped to smooth difficult moments. She never minded when the first words she heard from her friends' children were, "Treat, Aunt H'mione?"

Sirius accomplished his task of making the strudel fairly easily. It gave him ample ability to continue his thoughts. Though, he did find himself distracted by the witch across the room. A few wisps of hair fluttered out of her braid as she slightly swayed to the melody she was humming. As she kept her back to him, Sirius was able to study her without arising suspicion. He had not seen her this relaxed for quite some time. Even when they were at Harry and Ginny's or out to a Quidditch match, she was never this comfortable looking. He knew she hated the inevitable attention she gathered when ever she ventured into public. There was something else about her and it annoyed him to no end that he could not figure it out; so he kept staring at her.

She blended the two bowls of ingredients together. "When you're done with that, chop this apple into small pieces." She tossed the apple to Sirius, who had quickly glanced away as she turned.

He got up to get a knife and began his task. Once he had finished, Hermione toss the apple bits in and finished the batter.

"Can you grab the tins from the shelf up there?" she asked pointing to one of the highest shelves in her pantry. She thought he really was handy to have around. She would have needed to pull a chair into the pantry to reach them.

"As you wish, milady," he said.

"Here's the messy part I know you'll enjoy. I will put the batter in and then you put your mixture on top. Just a sprinkle. You don't want to make a crust," she said.

They stood shoulder to shoulder working on filling the tins. Naturally their hands and arms continuously brushed the other's. One must admit it really was quite the scene of domestic tranquility, at least until Sirius knocked the fork from his bowl onto the floor. He bent down to pick it up. As he straightened himself up he managed to lose his balance and knock into Hermione. She, startled, spun around, and managed to splatter a spoonful of batter across the front of his shirt.

"Hermione, you know I love these muffins, but I do prefer them to be baked," he said as he looked at the orange-brown splatter. He looked up at Hermione who had an unapologetic expression. Knowing she was about to scold and blame him for the entire episode, he decided to deal with the situation in the best way possible. After all, he must live up to the Code of the Marauders.

He stalked forward two steps trapping Hermione against the counter. He put his right hand on the counter next to her left elbow. 'Ah, she's worried,' he noted to himself. He reached with his left hand to the bowl of batter near her right elbow. Dipping his index finger in, he hooked a nice bit of batter. With the infamous smirk he and James were known for at Hogwarts, Sirius calmly wiped the batter from Hermione's right cheek, across her nose, and finished across her left. He then took his finger and just as calmly licked it clean directly in front of her face.

"Quite good, these muffins should be excellent. Of course, I did help," he turned and sauntered back to the table to take a seat.

"You incorrigible, infuriating excuse for a man. Will you ever grow up?" she huffed.

"My dear, if I ever grew up, you would be left with no one to scold. Besides, you know you adore me," he responded.

"Honestly!"

She hated when he was right. Was he right? That was not to be dwelt upon. The oven was heated and so she went to put in the muffins.

Sirius watched the now flustered witch. He noticed she was not humming any more. This caused him to feel quite pleased with himself resulting in an even larger smirk. He watched as she bent over to carefully slide the trays of muffins into the oven.

'Bloody hell!' he thought as the realization hit him that he did not, indeed, have everything that he wanted. The equally frightening revelation came that this time what he wanted might just be beyond his ability to get.

* * *

_AN: Given my complete adoration for the culinary arts, the above references a real recipe. A family favorite in fact. In any of my stories where cooking is described, it is a real recipe at its foundation. Otherwise, I distinctly suspect, my own great-grandmother would be horrified. To jest about cooking is something one simply must not do! Unless I ever put Fred or George into a kitchen, then all bets are off…_


	6. Need

_Disclaimer: As usual, all that is of the Potter universe belongs to JKR. I merely have this plot to offer and some out of canon ideas.

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_**What They Need**_

So that he could avoid the situation that had arisen, Sirius proposed watching another Muggle film. Hermione, who it must be admitted, was a bit thrown herself, hastily agreed. Neither was entirely sure which film found its way into the player. For a period of approximately two hours the two sat on entirely different chairs utterly focused on the television. They acted as if each were alone in the room. Neither acknowledged the presence of the other. They both felt it was much safer and easier that way. They both were struggling with the effects and stresses of the day.

When the film ended, Hermione looked over to Sirius. He had fallen asleep. She breathed a sigh of relief. She glanced at the clock and noted it was quite late in the afternoon. Since her sanctuary for reading was filled with the light snores of Sirius, she decided to indulge in her newly acquired second favorite pastime.

Yet again she made her way to the kitchen. Hermione smiled to herself as she thought of all the comments her mother would make about the rather impressive amount of time she had spent in the kitchen thus far on this rather unusual day. As a child she saw cooking as a waste of time. Though her mother would try to persuade her to help her in the kitchen, Hermione would prefer to sit somewhere and read. Now she looked back on those moments with the regret that comes from losing a loved one and knowing there were memories missed. Clearing her thoughts, she took stock of the contents of her pantry, cupboards, and ice box. Knowing she would have a ravenous Sirius on her hands in an hour or so, she contemplated what to make for dinner. She was in the depths of her pantry. It was magically enlarged so as to hold all her items for both cooking and potions. Harry and Ron always teased her about what actually went into her cooking pots. As if Hermione Granger would confuse cumin with powdered eye of newt!

Hermione began to hum, but decided to play some music instead. With a flick of her wand, the radio came on and she went back to rummaging through her kitchen. Over the course of twenty minutes she emptied a considerable number of items on her tabletop. There were tins, packages, fresh vegetables, quite a bit of garlic, and a few items that only she could identify.

For the next hour and a half Hermione dedicated herself to making her special marinara sauce, homemade ravioli, and some vegetables. Completely caught up in her cooking, she lost all track of time. She whirled through her kitchen nearly dancing to the music as she stirred, simmered, and sautéed. Unfortunately, she had not put on her apron and in the midst of her culinary efforts she had covered herself with bits of flour, splatters of tomato, and various other items. Time and her messy state eluded her until Sirius sauntered into the room.

Actually, it took a few moments for her to register the new presence. He casually leaned against the door frame and watched Hermione cook. Sirius was surprised by how peaceful the sight of the slightly bedraggled, totally engrossed Hermione was to him. Hermione whirled around from the stove and jumped nearly to the ceiling.

"Sirius Black don't you ever sneak up on me again!" she scolded once she had caught her breath.

"I would hardly call standing still for five minutes across the room from someone as sneaking up on them, Hermione Granger," he rationally responded.

"Honestly!" she huffed.

Sirius smirked at the trademark Hermione response. "So what's cookin', love?" he drawled.

"Not that you deserve it after that stunt, but I am making my specialty and if you promise to behave I just may let you eat it," she responded with her superior air.

"You would not starve a growing boy, would you?" he beseeched.

"Sirius, you are hardly a boy and you have never grown up," she retorted.

"True," Sirius conceded. "Do you need any assistance, my fair lady?"

"I am actually nearly done here. The sauce just simmers for a few minutes more as the ravioli finishes cooking. Oh!" Hermione happened to finally glance down and see the state of her clothes. "Would you mind keeping an eye on all this while I go change?"

"With pleasure," he made a courtly bow. Apparently those fairy tales went to his head.

"You always have such a flair for the dramatic," she shook her head as she headed to her room.

Sirius had resorted to the exaggerated courtliness to cover the newfound thoughts and feelings. Though always a chaser of skirts, it was not often that he actually wanted to catch and keep a particular skirt. He chuckled as he thought of the hex Hermione would send his way if she knew he had thought of her as a skirt. He continued to mull over his changing feelings for the young woman as he absentmindedly stirred the marinara. His musings quickly ended as he charmed the spoon to continue its rotations and he went about setting a few things up on the table and adjusting a couple of details for dinner.

Hermione, meanwhile, was flying up the stairs mostly concerned about the condition the food would be in when she returned to the kitchen. However, she was quickly brought back to her clothing issues when she opened the wardrobe.

"Oh, honestly, today of all days to be behind on my laundry!" she muttered when she realized all her casual clothes were in the laundry. She had not even had the time in the past few weeks to magic her laundry clean. Thus Hermione was left with a wardrobe containing a handful of skirts and two dresses. This was not a situation Hermione appreciated.

"He better not make any ridiculous comments or I will hex him into next year," she said as she dressed herself in clean clothing. She then rearranged her braid into a lose bun and started down the stairs. As she huffed her way downstairs a few strands of hair slipped lose and framed her face. With the frustration and former warmth of the kitchen, her cheeks were a healthy rosy hue and her eyes sparkled. It must be admitted she was quite attractive at this particular moment though she was entirely unaware of this fact.

Sirius, however, when Hermione entered found that fact was all he could be aware of and the slack jawed expression on his faced testified to that. Continuing with her obliviousness, Hermione missed Sirius' reaction and merely rushed to the stove to check on the sauce. When she noticed the spoon operating on its own volition, she turned to Sirius.

"I thought I told you to keep an eye on this!" she scolded him for what must have been the hundredth time that day.

"I just wanted to take care of a few other details for dinner which now, given your lovely appearance, are even more necessary," Sirius replied. Hermione was surprised at the low, solemn voice he used.

Finally, Hermione noticed what changes Sirius had made to the kitchen. The small table no longer was ready to eat at; all the dishes had been removed. She also noticed the soft lights from the dining room. Sirius in the meantime had been taking in Hermione's appearance yet again and with growing appreciation. Given her lack of fresh clothing, she had donned a garnet colored dress with a simple silhouette that fitted her perfectly and fell to a graceful hem a few inches below her knees. Small black ballet flats kept her feet warm on the hardwood floors and a soft, black cardigan served to warm her arms. Sirius was struck by the honest beauty of the woman before him and before he could register the thought, he was lost.

"I take it we are going to be having a more formal dinner, then?" she queried.

"Yes, and as such it seems I need to change. Please excuse me a moment," Sirius awkwardly left the room and Hermione could hear a few charms and spells to change his clothes without necessitating him to return home. Sirius did not return immediately to the kitchen so Hermione began to serve the food and float the dishes into the dining room. She decided to carry the last one in with her as it was the plate with the ravioli.

Hermione's breath caught when she entered her dining room. Sirius had lit all the sconces and the center of the table glowed with the light from candles held in her heirloom candlesticks. He had placed her grandmother's lace tablecloth on the table and set out her great-grandmother's wedding china. Sirius was standing, slightly hidden by the shadows, in a corner. He realized he may have been a bit forward by using Hermione's treasured family heirlooms and that this was the first time in his life he did not want to be too forward.

He had no reason to fear for the sight of her dining room and the man standing in it was enough to make Hermione breathe, "Oh, Sirius. It is absolutely lovely."

"I am glad you approve. I hope you don't mind me changing the dishes and such," he said with surprising meekness.

"Of course not," Hermione did not have too many words at her disposal as she was still taking in the sight of Sirius in a well tailored black pants and a burgundy shirt with silver cufflinks that caught the candlelight when he moved his hands. Hermione absently wondered what the unique shape of the cufflinks was. She could not tell from across the room.

The atmosphere of the room was warm and an odd mixture of discomfiture and familiarity filled the air. The glow of the hearth warmed the room and took away all remnants of the chill autumn evening. Hermione and Sirius at some level of thought realized that there was something momentous about this meal, something that had never impinged upon all the other hundreds of meals they had shared. Despite that unknown quantity, the two were such close friends that familiarity could overcome the unease.

Hermione finally placed the dish in her hands on the table. Sirius silently pulled out a chair for her and she took her seat.

"Thank you," she quietly said.

"You're welcome," he murmured as he slid her chair in and caught a hint of her shampoo's scent. Sirius inwardly sighed in contentment.

He took a seat at her left and poured a glass of wine for her.

"Where did that come from?" she asked as she knew it was not from her own small collection of wine.

"My family may have been wrong in all else they did, but they did know how to keep a wine cellar stocked. I thought it would go well with the meal," he stated.

She took a small sip and smiled, "Yes, it is lovely."

Sirius smirked, "You seem to use that word quite a bit tonight, Hermione. For one so eloquent I am surprised. And given your appearance, I would think words like beautiful and ravishing would be far more appropriate."

Knowing he needed to make Hermione see that he no longer wanted to be merely friends, Sirius was using all the honest charm and grace he could muster. His efforts were not lost on Hermione.

"I would hardly say that," Hermione quickly brushed the comment off, though she was flattered. "You are quite dashing tonight, too." Hermione was a bit taken with the idea that the famous Sirius Black who for his entire life had women falling at his feet was trying to charm her. Hermione was surprised with the idea that she was full ready to be charmed by Sirius.

The next few minutes were consumed by the serving of food and passing of plates. Once each had their meals before them, they felt the need to converse. Hermione was about to say something, but as Sirius had just tried the ravioli he had a ready comment.

"This is fabulous, Hermione. You really have a gift!"

"Thank you. If my mother knew how much I've grown to love cooking she would think I was possessed or some such nonsense," she responded.

They continued to chat pleasantly about inconsequential things over the course of the meal. Each had enough wine to warm their insides and relax the tension in the room. By the time that Sirius finished his third or fourth serving of the ravioli, Hermione was pleased she thought to make enough to feed six people. The conversation had died down as Sirius focused on the food and Hermione marveled at how much one man could truly eat.

Finally, with his appetite satiated, Sirius looked up to find Hermione smirking at him.

"And what, pray tell is that look for?" he asked.

"At least you manage decent table manners while eating all that food. Honestly, you eat more than the Weasley twins put together!" she tried to sound frustrated but as she really found it endearing, Hermione's tone was much gentler than she would have wished.

"Well, I did try to pay attention to what Mrs. Potter always taught me. Actually both of them," he laughed. "Both Lily and James' mum tried to drill decent manners in me. They were really the only two women who I cared enough about to really listen to…" he trailed off again.

"Oh, really? The only two?" she said raising that pesky eyebrow again.

Quickly realizing what he had said, Sirius replied smoothly, "They are the only ones I really cared enough about in the past. Now I seem to have no choice regarding you. I have to behave if I want to eat your delectable culinary creations."

"Sirius, you do realize that you can't impress me with big words. You shouldn't work your poor mind so hard, you might sprain it," she said with mock sadness.

Hearing strains of soft music from the kitchen where Hermione had forgotten to turn off her music, Sirius abruptly stood up and stood before Hermione.

"May I have this dance?" he asked in all sincerity as he held out his hand.

The look in his eye as Hermione glanced up stilled her. It was unknown but somehow familiar. Unsure of how to read that expression, she silently stood and took his hand. Sirius drew her close and the two began a slow, graceful dance.

Sirius became lost in his thoughts and the sensations. Since his time in Azkaban and behind the veil, he had become more thoughtful and in regards to Hermione he knew each figurative step he took needed to be methodical and meaningful. Now, in this moment when he held a woman who according to birth certificates was half his age but in wisdom and life experiences very much his equal, he finally knew what James had found in Lily. He had never known that sort of emotion and conscious decision to devote oneself to another before in his life. Yet, now, he found himself silently acknowledging and avowing to devote himself to Hermione. With the same determination that James had pursuing Lily, Sirius promised himself he would pursue Hermione. He finally discovered what he truly needed in life.

Hermione was equally lost. During the war and the time of healing and restoration that followed, she had learned to feel and not overanalyze life. She had learned from experience to treasure the beautiful moments in life because darkness often comes and one needs some goodness to hold on to. She realized this could be one of the most beautiful moments of her life. This was the moment she realized she could have what Mrs. and Mr. Weasley had, what Harry and Ginny had. She knew now, that in her past, those were merely infatuations or girlhood crushes. This was real. This was what she never truly knew she needed.

As the candles burned low the two continued dancing in wordless mutual acknowledgement that this was a new beginning for them. This day that had previously held only dark memories and bitter tears now was a day from which would spring their most treasured memories.

Feeling it was necessary to recognize this momentous occasion with some sort of conversation, Sirius began, "Hermione…" He could not find the words though and simply drifted back into silence.

"Shhh. I know," Hermione whispered as she placed her head on his shoulder and he drew her closer. He held her hand to his heart and the two danced.

* * *

_A.N.: I genuinely am unsure as to whether I want to continue or not. This is a natural closure and is the end I originally intended. An idea for a sort of epilogue is lurking in the back corner of my mind, but I feel it would actually detract from this story. Additional thought and any responses you, the dear reader, may bring might swing things a bit._


End file.
